I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive...23/?
Yeah, because that isn’t weird at all...
“We were just sitting, and talking, and that’s all.”
“So you think, after this -” I opened my phone and searched through it for a minute before turning the screen to them. Spencer gasped and turned bright red, whereas Jon just smirked at him.
“You think, after you lied - that’s right, don’t deny it - lied to us about not liking each other - you think we’re gonna believe you were just sitting, and talking, and that’s all?”
We sat in a circle in Spencer’s room, sorting through our homework.
I really couldn’t believe that Brendon had picked a fight with Gabe Saporta.
To be honest, I was scared witless, though I hadn’t shown it, because Gabe?
Please. That’s basically a death sentence.
Not in the literal sense of course, but he has that gift of being able to publicly humiliate people in the worst possible way, the way that makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.
“Oh no!” Brendon furrowed his eyebrows, staring intently at his books. “I left my maths stuff in my locker!”
He looked up, chewing on his lip. “Do you think I can still get it? Will the school be locked up?”
“It shouldn’t be,” said Spencer thoughtfully, “you can probably still get it. It’s only just past four thirty."
“Okay!” said Brendon, leaping up. “Be back soon!”
“Bye,” I mumbled, watching him dance out the door, giving me a broad smile as he went.
I still couldn’t help blushing.
Five o’clock.
Five thirty.
“Maybe he went to the shops or something?”
“Look, I don’t care, it doesn’t take an hour to do something like that,” I said anxiously. “Why isn’t he back yet?”
“Okay, okay!” Spencer raised his hands. “We’ll go find him then, if it makes you feel any better."
“But I’ve texted him six times already!"
I had. And the texts had become progressively more demanding and worried.
I swallowed when Spencer and Jon looked at me, eyebrows raised.
“Okay."
----
The sky was deepening to a shade that was making me feel uncomfortable.
It was neither light nor dark, which worried me, though I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because I knew that soon there wouldn’t be any light, and that the night was approaching at an alarming rate.
The buildings were still unlocked when we reached school, having caught no glimpse of Brendon on the way, which only served to increase my fears. Anybody could get in, and likewise, they could get out again.
I moved along the semi-dark corridor with Jon and Spencer, halting immediately when I saw the open locker.
Oh no...
“Ryan.”
Spencer’s voice scared me. It was as though it was dead, a statement, spoken calmly, emotionless, just...dead. Blank.
“Ryan,” he repeated, and I saw him standing some twenty feet away from me. “Here.”
Oh my god...
The figure huddled on the floor, back to the wall, unmistakably Brendon.
My breath caught. It was definitely him. I’d memorised every aspect of his form, his appearance, but for a moment, I was unsure.
I’d never seen him so broken looking.
And I somehow knew it before I saw him. How could it not have been?
I smelt the metallic tang of blood before I saw it, bringing a lump to my throat and horrified tears to my eyes, and I couldn’t comprehend it.
Moving forward, almost weightless, I dropped onto my knees next to him and peered into his face. His pupils were blown, eyes almost black in the dim corridor, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps that rasped horribly.
My eyes were drawn to the swiftly flourishing purple across his cheek, the blood coming up underneath the skin around his eye to form a mottled bruise.
His shirt was saturated with blood, and when I gingerly lifted it, I saw several shallow wounds on his torso. I couldn’t tell how long he’d been like this.
He was conscious, but what pained me most were the tears that streaked his face. I’d never wanted to see that again.
His eyes flicked towards me, and he gave a small smile, which instantly turned to a grimace of pain as he shifted, trying to sit up. A moan of pain escaped with his voice, and I choked back a sob, touching his face with shaking fingers.
“Bren?” I stammered finally, my throat tightening as he acknowledged me hazily. “Who - who did this to you?”
“Don’ know. Didn’t recognise ‘em.” His voice rasped, and he coughed, a sob escaping from his throat as he winced.
“W-where -” I swallowed, my eyes flicking over his body. “Where does it hurt?”
“Ev’rywhere,” breathed Brendon dazedly, his eyelids flickering as he winced in pain. “M-mainly m’ - ribs...where they - kicked me.”
I didn’t want to hear, cursing myself for my cowardice.
How can someone do this?
I sank wearily onto the floor, not wanting to touch him, for fear of hurting him further. Stunned, I couldn’t comprehend the sight that had met my eyes, the smell that hit my nostrils, and the pain that seared through every fibre of my being.
----
I didn’t know that an ambulance had been called until it came.
To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t remember all that much about the proceedings after - well, after we found him. It didn’t matter, as long as he was alright.
A man and a woman loaded him onto a stretcher and put him none-too-gently into the back of the ambulance, and I couldn’t help remembering that he was awake while all this occurred. His breath came in short gasps, though his eyes were slowly returning to their regular warm brown.
Of course, the janitors, and the staff members, and even the principal came out of the school, and I moved forward to the matronly looking woman who was about to close the doors to the back of the vehicle, mumbling, “Please? Can I go with him?”
She looked at me intently for a moment, before saying, “Fine. Get in.”
I was surprised that she didn’t question who I was, or say something along the lines of ‘are you family?’ or whatever, just let me in.
Brendon smiled weakly as I climbed in awkwardly and Spencer yelled, “We’ll meet you there!” as the woman shut the doors, motioning to the seat opposite her. I paid attention to nothing but Brendon’s face; I couldn’t tell you what the woman was doing, except that she sat down and said quietly, “I’m sorry. Do you know who did it?”
That stupid mask covers his features...I don’t like it...
I jerked my head up, quickly shaking it when I took in what had been said. She’d made it sound like he’d died or something.
He’s not gonna die, is he?
I was a mess, though it was nothing compared to the state that Brendon was in.
I put my hands to my face and was shocked to find that it was wet, pulling my fingers away and examining them. Then I shifted closer to Brendon and played with his hair absently.
And the matronly looking woman watched us the whole time.
The trip to the hospital; it was as though it would never end.
I’d never been in an ambulance before, because I’d never been hurt that badly, but we were out of the ambulance, and I was slumped in a chair in the waiting room, and Brendon was somewhere else while people in uniforms tended to him.
And I couldn’t do anything about it.
----
“Ryan!”
Jon flew through the door, Spencer close behind him; I threw myself at Spencer and broke down, crying pitifully.
In the hour after the ambulance came, I had really been out of it.
Seriously out of it. The thoughts that I’d been going over and over in my mind were irrational, I knew that, but what could I do?
Now that Spencer and Jon were here, I felt some strange sense of peace, and calmness, and felt like I could function a bit better.
Then the ‘I’m-going-to-kick-those-sons-of-bitches’ asses’ instinct kicked in, only, I was stuck here in a hospital and was completely oblivious as to whoever had beaten Brendon up. I pushed against Spencer in vain, trying to get away from him, my vision blurring as my eyes filled with tears again.
Spencer held me tightly against him, actually hugging me, and he whispered, “I phoned my mom, she says the Uries already know, the principal has already phoned them and they should be here soon.”
“Good,” I choked, terrified about the prospect of meeting Brendon’s mother and father, and all the more terrified about the welfare of Brendon himself. And I was getting so damn impatient.
Why can’t they hurry up?
----
Someone was shaking me, and I opened my eyes blearily, feeling the dull ache in my neck and back grow stronger.
Damn. I fell asleep.
I looked up to see a tall thin man with glasses leaning over me, a friendly smile on his face.
“Would you like to see him now?”
How the hell do you know who I want to see?
“Yes please,” I whispered, standing up and following him down the wide, stark hallway. I had never realised how much I loathed hospitals.
“He didn’t lose too much blood,” the doctor said quietly. “Although whoever did that to him knew roughly what they were doing.” The thought of that made me shudder. “The ribs aren’t broken thankfully, or displaced, though they are cracked. He’ll feel pain just from deep breathing and coughing and sneezing, but after about six weeks there shouldn’t be any physical reminder of the incident.”
I could only nod, loathing hearing these things.
He stopped outside a door. “He was very lucky that he wasn’t hurt any more than that. He was in slight shock, so just be aware of that fact. He’ll be on painkillers for a good period of time as well.”
He pushed the door open and stepped through, motioning for me to follow. Brendon was the only occupant in the ward.
He looked tired, but not as though he was in pain. Much.
Mind you, appearances can be misleading.
“It wasn’t Gabe,” was the first thing to come out of his mouth, slurred though it was.
Tired and probably pumped full of drugs, but still Brendon.
God, Brendon.
“I know you're wondering who it was,” he mumbled, “or how best to kill them, or whatever takes your fancy, but probably the second, ‘cause you’re you.”
“Oh my god,” was all I could manage, rushing over to him and gently pressing a kiss above his eyebrow. I dragged a chair over as the doctor discreetly left the room, and I sat down, stroking my fingers along the cheek that was left free of damage.
All that mattered to me right then was that I could be with him, not having to consider anything else but that fact.
“Are you...?” I left the question open, though I knew what had happened to him
“The stupid ribs are cracked, not broken,” he said vehemently, wincing, “but it still hurt like crap. And yeah...the rest of me, well, you can see for yourself. I can go home in a few days.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks. “I feel so bad.”
“What the hell, Ry?” said Brendon. “How any of us could have known what was going to happen is beyond me, it’s not your fault, Ry.”
“H-have your parents been in yet?” I asked half-heartedly. I didn't care much for an answer.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, smiling widely and wincing as he stretched the bruised skin across his cheek. “Apparently my mother and Spencer’s have been having nice little gossip sessions about us for a while now, about all of us actually. Ah well. Secrecy doesn’t work for anyone really. I didn’t even know they knew each other that well.”
I smiled back weakly. He was hurt, and shaken, despite the bravado he was trying to make me believe in. He was trying to make me believe it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.
“Can I...?” I asked tentatively, motioning to him.
“Oh god, please,” he said wearily, and I stood up, stroking his hair back from his forehead and burying my face in it, inhaling deeply.
Calm down, calm down, it’s fine, he’s gonna be alright...
“Strawberry still?”
Okay, hopefully this one was sooner than the last one was, and now it's HOLIDAYS!!! YAY. I'm thinking of finishing this soon, so you know....Comments = much love
(God that was a lame chapter).
I have never suffered from cracked ribs, so yeah, if this isn't as correct as I hoped, let me know!